Ghosts and Spirits and The Crow Collection

By Kristy McCaffrey

It’s October, my favorite time of year, and naturally all thoughts turn to thrills and scares and supernatural happenings.

I’ve had a few encounters with apparitions. Several years ago my youngest daughter came to my bedside in the middle of the night, which she often did, so at first I wasn’t concerned. But as I began speaking to her, her appearance faded away in a rippling wave. It kinda freaked me out! Thinking on it later, I decided she had somehow projected an astral image of herself while she dreamt in the room beside ours, however when I asked her about it the next day, she had no recollection of it.

Have you ever seen ghost? I’d love to know! Drop your experience in the comments if you’d like to share.

If you’re looking for western reads that takes place during Hallowtide, I hope you’ll check out The Crow Brothers Collection.

Don’t miss these short stories filled with chills and romance.

It’s Hallowtide in the Old West. Join three bounty hunters fighting dark magic and the women destined to love them.

The Crow and The Coyote

Among the red-rock canyons of the Navajo, bounty hunter Jack Boggs—known as The Crow—aids Hannah Dobbin in a quest to save her pa's soul during Hallowtide.

The Crow and The Bear

When no one will help Jennie Livingstone enter a haunted ravine to find her papa, she must accept the aid of enigmatic bounty hunter Callum Boggs, sometimes called The Crow.

A Murder of Crows

Eliza McCulloch is determined to reclaim her family book of spells and her only hope is Kester Boggs, a manhunter named The Crow.

(These stories were previously published separately. Heat level: steamy)

Available in ebook and paperback at Amazon, Apple Books, Kobo, Nook and Google Play. Find all the links here.

Excerpt from The Crow and the Coyote

Jack Boggs came upon the camp in the blackness of night. A form lay near a smoldering fire. A quick perusal told him it was female. Disappointed, he rested his gun against his thigh from where he crouched. 

He'd followed these tracks all day, but instead of leading him to Ignacio Lopez, they ended here. He had no interest in befriending anyone, but perhaps the woman might have seen Lopez in the area.

The end of a barrel jammed hard between his shoulder blades. “Do not move.”

Shocked by the sound of a gravelly, Indian-inflected voice, he couldn't believe a woman had crept up on him.

He let the Colt slide to the ground before him, then slowly raised his arms.

“Stand, and move away from that gun,” she said.

Hopefully, she wouldn't notice the second one still holstered. He stood. The metal dug into his back again—from the feel of it, likely a double-barreled shotgun—prompting him forward. He stepped over his weapon, and heard the Indian woman retrieve it.

“Hannah, wake up,” the woman said as they approached.

Jack chanced a glance over his shoulder. A short, elderly Navajo woman eyed him with suspicion.

The female on the ground stirred, then sprang to her feet.

With a gasp, her hand came to her chest. “Oh, my word, Sani.”

Forced closer by the persistent Sani, he could see Hannah's disheveled dark hair framed a youthful complexion.

“I told you we were followed,” the old woman said.

Hannah's gaze shifted to him. “Who are you, sir?”

“The name's Jack. I'm in pursuit of bounty.” He ceased inching forward, and the shotgun dug into his back once again.

“What bounty would that be?”

“A bandito by the name of Ignacio Lopez. I mean no harm to you and soft shoes back there.” He nodded over his shoulder.

Hannah considered him, then agreed. “Sani, put the gun down.”

To Jack's surprise, the Indian woman acquiesced. Carefully, he lowered his arms. “Would either of you by chance know anything about Lopez?”

Sani came to stand beside Hannah, gripping the shotgun in one hand and his weapon in the other. Even in the dark, he sensed her brittle glare.

“We might,” Hannah answered. “Would you care to join us at our fire?” She scanned behind her. “At what is left of our fire?” she amended.

He gave a curt nod. “Might I trouble you for the return of my gun?”

Hannah motioned for Sani to give it back, which the old woman did, her features schooled in a skeptical frown.

He wasted no time holstering the weapon, hoping to gain their trust.

They all settled around the barely-glowing embers.

Hannah stoked the fire, re-igniting a small blaze, then spoke in soft undertones to Sani. Jack caught snippets of Spanish mixed with a dialect he assumed to be Navajo. He knew only a smattering, the Navajo language far more complex than any he'd encountered in the past few years of hunting bounties in Texas and the territories.

Hannah turned her gaze upon him, now viewing him as sternly as old Sani. After a moment of contemplation, she murmured again to the Navajo woman.

“It's rude to talk behind someone's back,” he said, removing his hat and running fingers through shoulder-length hair.

“I agree,” Hannah replied. “Are you called Crow?”

Even in the darkness, his jet-black hair was hard to miss. That had to account for why she guessed the moniker frequently attributed to him.

“Yeah,” he replied.

Hannah took a deep breath. “Well, then, Sani and I would ask for your assistance—in exchange, of course—for our help in locating Señor Lopez.”

“You know his whereabouts?”

She nodded, but then amended, “Well, maybe not his location precisely, but we've some idea who he might be with.”

“And who's that?”

She regarded him in silence. For such a young and pretty thing, she was turning out to be a shrewd negotiator. “Do we have a deal?”

“I've no idea what you're asking me to do.”

“You tell him,” Sani said.

“We're after a Navajo called Hastin Yazhe.” Hannah spoke quietly. “He has something I want returned, a silver cross that belonged to my pa. If the man you trail is in these canyons, Yazhe will get him—if not now, then eventually.”

Pinpricks pierced the back of Jack’s neck, bringing his attention fully to the young woman across from him.

“Who is this Yazhe?” he asked.

“A sorcerer. A demon. Depends on your religious leanings, I suppose. I believe him to practice evil.”

“Why would you come after him alone? Are there no men aiding you? Where are your husbands?”

“I've no husband,” Hannah replied, “and Sani has long been without her love. I wouldn't pursue this man if it wasn't of utmost importance.”

“And why is that?”

“He murdered my pa and left his spirit in limbo. When I get that cross back, I'll be able to undo the dark works that have imprisoned my pa's soul. I'll be able to set him free.”

A foreboding of apprehension caught Jack by surprise, sending a shiver down his spine. He knew something of spirits and superstitions, but he also knew that men begat violence for no other reason than that they could.

He also knew that the two women before him, while spouting paranoia, were entirely lucid—and deadly serious.

That concerned him most of all.

A Navajo Hex

By Kristy McCaffrey

When I was nine years old, I lived on the Navajo Indian Reservation. My dad, who has long had a deep and abiding respect for Native Americans, saw this as a chance to give back with his life, so he took a job as an accountant with an arts and crafts store in Window Rock, Arizona—capital of the Navajo Nation. We obtained a house just across the border in New Mexico, in a small town aptly called “Navajo,” supported by a local sawmill. It was 1975.

Navajo, New Mexico (photo taken by author)

One day at one of the stores that employed my father a worker found a Styrofoam cup tucked away on a shelf. Inside were various items that included a torn corner of a $5, $10 and $20 bill. It was immediately clear to those who discovered it that a hex had been placed. Soon thereafter, a medicine man was called. Since it involved all the employees, my dad was allowed, despite being a white man, to participate in the ceremonies conducted.

Window Rock, Arizona (photo courtesy of Shutterstock)

At the first ritual, the medicine man found a buried pot outside the building at the base of the famous local landmark, the window rock. This was accomplished when his hand trembled over the exact location. On the outside of the pot, stick figures represented the employees, and lightning bolts painted above indicated death by lightning strike. At the time, we were having terrible storms every day. Inside were pieces of coral, turquoise, and silver, and a section of human skull.

At the second ceremony, a bowl filled with some type of tea was passed around to ingest, and then each employee was asked to look into a crystal to identify who had placed the hex. My dad says he saw nothing, but it was generally agreed that the perpetrator was a former employee who had been fired. She was part of a major Navajo clan, and her dismissal had possibly angered the wrong people. But the curse spoke of deeper problems within the Navajo and their way of life. The crafts people—those who made Indian jewelry and the iconic Navajo weavings—were at odds with the administration, which included my dad. There were those who wanted progress, and those who didn’t. At the conclusion of the ceremony, after a sand painting was created, the piece of skull inside the pot was burned. Two female employees reported instant relief from a terrible headache that had plagued them all evening. Back at home, at the same time, my mother said I’d been distraught and crying for hours from pains in my head, which immediately stopped when the bone was destroyed. It seemed family members had also been included in the hex.

My dad never attended the third, and final, observance—the Blessing Way—because we had moved back to Phoenix. He has always joked that the hex was never fully removed. As evidence, he cites various mishaps that occur whenever he and my mother return to the Navajo Reservation: car breakdowns, money stolen, and in one instance missing a critical turnoff because five Indians stood in front of a directional sign.

In my recently re-released standalone historical western novel INTO THE LAND OF SHADOWS, I included the hex in the story. 

Digital copies are on sale this week for 99 cents.

It’s been five years since a woman came between Ethan Barstow and his brother, Charley, and it’s high time they buried the hatchet. When Ethan travels to Arizona Territory to make amends, he learns that Charley has abruptly disappeared after breaking more than one heart in town. And an indignant fiancée is hot on his trail.

When Charley Barstow abandons a local girl after getting her pregnant, Kate Kinsella pursues him without a second thought. She’s determined he set things right, and even more determined to end her own engagement to him, a sham from the beginning. But an ill-timed encounter with a group of ruffians lands her in the company of Charley’s brother, Ethan, who suggests they search together.

As Ethan and Kate move deeper INTO THE LAND OF SHADOWS, family tensions and past tragedies threaten to destroy a love neither of them expected.

A sensuous historical western romance set in 1893 Arizona Territory. Into The Land Of Shadows is a stand-alone, full-length novel with paranormal elements.

This book was previously published in 2013 under the same title. While the text and cover have been updated, the story remains the same.

Click to read Chapter One and find buy links.